Chiaroscuro
by VanillaSpiders
Summary: n. the interplay or contrast of dissimilar qualities as of mood or character. Two Once-Ler's really shouldn't exist in the same time and space—but these two do, and this is what happens to them, as told in various one shots that will, like all things eventually, make sense of one another. oncest
1. Sleep

Once-Ler sighed as he came into his (or was it his other's?) large office. He walked right in without knocking, without caring about entrance. It was just him after all, just them. Only he worked this late, and by association, so did his other half, the younger Once-Ler.

The younger, more notably happier version of the Once-Ler walked up to his other self's (or was it his?) desk and stood there for a second. Silence.

"Hey."

"…mhn." The green-clad man was hunched over, something, papers, mounds of them. For once they were all white. The room mostly dark save for a singular lamp light on his desk—saving energy, Greed-Ler said, bad for his eyes, Once-Ler said—with scrawls and scribbles and signatures littering the paragraphs of text on the pages of pages lying over the desk like some great blanket. Once-Ler didn't bother with that stuff, he didn't have too. But, at some point, neither did his other half, who still had really recognized his other half's presence and was writing something in pen without pause.

"C'mon, it's nearly 3. You need to sleep…" Once-Ler was, as far as he had seen, the only one able to get so close to his older version and touch him gently, this time on that dark green shoulder. The workaholic hardly moved.

"…hey, seriously, please? Go to bed?"

When all he got was a grunt in reply, Once-Ler's eyebrows knitted together a little bit. When his other self wasn't pestering him and trying to seduce him or whatever he called it, he was working. And working and working and working and _wasting away._

Once-Ler worried one day his older self would just collapse face first into his papers or on the floor of the factory while inspecting…and there was dangerous machinery there, and Once-Ler knew that and it only made him worry just a bit more, because really, this guy was, was **HIM** basically and like it or not he was a part of him. For better or for worse. (Although to be honest, the worse could far out-weigh the better most days.)

"I'll sleep when I'm dead," Greed-Ler's voice was rough from disuse and dryness. "Now go the fuck to bed."

Once-Ler sighed and left….and came back with a glass of water, setting it down on the barest available surface he could find.

When this older self finally fell asleep at his desk, as he was bound to do around four thirty, sometimes five, than Oncie would half carry, half drag the guy to his (or was it their's?) bed and then, finally, finally they would get some sleep.

They slept best when they shared the same sheets, after all.


	2. Mother

He could barely make out what they were saying.

"Sweetie, he's becoming a _problem_, don't you think?"

"…problem?"

"I'm only looking out for you dear, and face it; he's just using you for power and financial security."

"No he's not Mom, it's fine…" Something else muttered by their mother, "I said it's fine—why would he ever do something like that, I, I was talking but okay…no. I said NO Mom I…" The voice trailed off, or quieted down, Once-Ler couldn't tell.

Once-Ler pressed himself against the closed door and tried valiantly to hear more, but his mother's voice was hushed. Like she knew he was listening. He suppressed a shiver that threatened to run up his spine and almost tip-toed away right then and there. His older self would relay what had been going on, wouldn't he?

They hadn't told her. Or anyone for that matter. The factory was just so big and everyone was so busy and, it had just…slipped from their minds. That and, Once-Ler often mused that Greed-Ler didn't WANT any to know. Anyone who could try and split them up. Even Oncie didn't think that was such a good idea. Would one of them disappear? Both of them? There was no way of knowing what would happen if the truth got out.

For once in his life, Once-Ler was glad his mother was a bit clueless when it came to him, because she'd initially taken him, his younger-self as a lookalike. It was a stupid response, like Greed-Ler had redundantly asked him one night "How blind can she be? We're her own _son_!" but it worked out well for the time being.

But now…somehow now she'd gotten it into her head that _he,_ younger Once-Ler was Hell bent on destroying the company they'd worked so hard to build. All because Greed-Ler had been working less and finally getting rest, no longer driving himself into the ground just for sales and profit.

His own mother wanted him _gone_ now.

Once-Ler didn't get it either, but when Greed-Ler had gotten a call from his receptionist his mother was _coming_ right now down the damn hall, the green-clad man had heaved Once-Ler off his lap and ordered him to get out of the room and stay out of sight. This one time Oncie didn't argue with him, because he could feel the urgency pouring off his older self in waves, and god it worried him too. This older version of himself was a great, powerful man who had control and knew how to use it, but when it came to their mother?

Not even Greed-Ler could do anything, and that really scared Once-Ler, whether he knew it or not.

The door flew open, and Once-Ler went flying.

Greed-Ler stalked pasted his crumpled form without a word, long legs eating up the carpet as he headed down the dark hall, growling and muttering to himself, hands fists at his sides. Getting shakily to his own feet, the younger Once-Ler moved around the door and peeked around the corner just a tiny bit—

When he caught his mother's narrowed eyes on him from where she stood at the side of the large desk in the middle of that enormous room, he ducked back, out of sight and this time, let the shiver come.


	3. Nothing

Greed-Ler knew they were up the creek.

Hell, they didn't have a boat. They didn't have a paddle. They didn't even have a creek.

That's how bad it was. And it was only going to get worse.

His mom, their mom, while she didn't know she wasn't happy. Wasn't happy with the treatment and the arrangement and the lack of social standing between her son and the rest of the bachelorettes in Thneedville. That her philanthropist son was letting her down, oh no he wasn't, not this time, not again, she'd set him straight she said, get him to see the light she said, she'd—

Oncie mumbled something down next to him, and Greed-Lers thoughts broke like glass falling to the floor, his train of thought scattering to the wind.

So the Greed-Ler didn't try to dwell on that too much, tried not to let it ruin what was going on right now. Even if…nothing was going on right now. He was leaning against the headboard of his extravagant bed currently, laptop on his long stretched out legs and staring idly into the dark room of his massive bedroom. The only glow came from the screen , before him and yeah, okay, Oncie was always on his case about it damaging his eyesight or some shit, but honestly, did he care?

Well Oncie couldn't scold him now, Greed-Ler smirked to his screen as he thought of that, glancing over only once to let his eyes rest on the bundle of sheets tucked up against him as his younger-self slept fitfully. It was 3 something in the damn am and the guy was out like a light. Once or twice the kid would mumble or mutter or shift just a little too restlessly for Greed-Ler's taste, and when that happened the older half would automatically switch his attention from his work to his younger self. He would lean over and mutter something low and soothing that he'd sooner die than let anyone else hear, or rest his hand on what he assumed to be his Oncie's back or shoulder and stroke it softly with his gloved hands, doing these actions until the restless little sleeper settled back down or until Greed-Ler heard another snore, whichever came first.

It was pathetic, really, how _soft_ he got around Oncie. What was worse was he knew he did it, and yet didn't really see the point in changing. Why bother? It was still, technically, himself, he was still being the selfish, egotistical prick the world viewed him to be.

…didn't they?

Oh well it….it didn't matter.

Greed-Ler huffed a bit and leaned back to flick his eyes over his laptop. Nothing mattered. Nothing mattered except work, and money, and prices and proving himself to—

Oncie made the smallest of noises, and rolled right over into Greed-Ler's pin-striped hip, burying his nose shamelessly against the fabric in his sleeping state. Greed-Ler just rolled his eyes (fondly, mind you) and had his hand halfway down to rest on his other half's head before he knew what he was doing, and finally he just settled his hand down and, and bit shamelessly, ran his fingers through Once-Ler's hair as he continued to work with minimal difficulty with one hand.

That's right. Nothing mattered to Greed-Ler except for his work. He'd keep telling himself that, until he believed it or until it came true…whichever came first.


	4. Birthday

Today was going to best day ever, seriously.

Better than the day he and Greed-Ler found that stash of marshmellow fluff in the back of the cupboard, better than the day the first thneed sold. Better than, than…well okay, maybe not better than the first time they'd, y'know_, done it_, but pretty damn close.

Oncie was going to make sure of it.

This was gonna be the best day his older self and him ever had, because this time, after 25 years, (28 if you were considering Greed-Ler) Oncie was going to enjoy his birthday. With himself. Sad? A little.

Difficult?

"Dammit ….Jesus where's my fucking tie, I just saw it, it was the one the bed—"

Yes. Very difficult. Greed-Ler was making it very hard for them to enjoy their special day, and he wasn't even meaning too.

Oncie rung his hands and moved to get his Greed-Ler's tie. It was right in his line of vision but sometimes the man was so focused on one thing he got tunnel vision. Greed-Ler read the pages of the thick contract before him in his hands as he let his younger self put on his tie.

As soon as it was done his older self was off and grabbing his hat, throwing a "Thanks sweetheart," over his shoulder as he headed out the door.

"…..bye. Love you too." The remaining Once-Ler muttered to the empty doorway. He flopped down on the messy bed behind him and sat there, heading his hands and thinking.

Greed-Ler worked so much, he didn't celebrate anything, especially his own birthday, not when there sales and machines and other things to be looked after. Nothing was more important to him than his work, not even his health, Oncie knew that. It made him kind of sad to know he'd never be that important to Greed-Ler but it made him more worried that one day the guy was just going to run himself in the ground.

So Greed-Ler deserved a little fun.

The problem was getting him to slow down long enough to notice enjoy it.

Oncie headed for his Greed-Ler's desk, grabbed the agende his secretary left on it every day and flipped to the correct day.

'_Meeting at 8….he's in that right now. Until…12? Gosh. Okay well…I could get the cake done in-between then, but then he wouldn't have lunch. So I should make lunch. Then the cake.'_

Oncie sighed, closed the book and lifted his shoulders, heading off. He could do this.

Today was going to be perfect.

Around 12:30 Greed-Ler stepped into his office, just as Oncie was carrying in his lunch on a tray.

"Hi! How was the meeting—" he stopped at the look on his older self's face, looking sympathetic. "..bad I take it?

"Babe it was ridiculous." Greed-Ler moaned as he dropped into his plush chair. "Fucking union's on my case about conditions, they want more time for vacations or some shit, then the press got hold of some news about the charity and where it actually goes, don't look at me like that," he snapped half heartedly as he looked some papers.

"…here's lunch." If Greed-Ler noticed the sagging look to his younger-self he didn't notice it. but Once-Ler was tired, he'd just gotten the first layer of the cake into the oven…and there was still so much to do. As long as Greed-Ler didn't go into the kitchen, he'd be okay.

"…mhn, yeah." Once-Ler watched him pick up the coffee and sip it immediately, but he was slow to pick at the rest of the meal.

"I hope you like it," Once-Ler prodded gently with his voice. "it's your favorite…"

"Of course sweetheart." Greed-Ler mumbled absently as he bit into the heart shaped sandwich with a careless chomp, lettuce escaping and mustard nearly slipping out.

"I…" Oncie stopped talking with a sigh. "S-see you at dinner?" He tried again, one more time.

"..what?" maybe it had worked, or maybe Greed-Ler finally noticed the slight desperate tone Oncie's voice had taken on, the tiny crack to it.

"Dinner? At, at 7? You're meeting ends at 6:30, I'll have dinner and…dessert…ready at 7." The younger man found his voice, regained confidence now that his older self was actually making eye contact with him.

"Sure, of course babe. I'll be there." It was a good as a promise as he was going to get, Oncie knew…he'd take it.

"Great!" He'd dropped down and pecked the man's cheek with a flourish. "See you then!"

He headed back to the kitchen with a bounce in his step that Greed-Ler missed completely, but that was okay, because there was still time to save this day, their birthday.

Once-Ler spent the day baking, cleaning, and various other chores he'd picked up from some of the more exhausted maids. But true to his word, at 6 o clock he was the last in the large kitchen and instead of setting up the food at the dining hall, simply put dinner down on the modest table in the kitchen. So what if he hummed a little to himself, so what if he sat down at 6:50 and had to stand back up because he was so excited? Gosh, Greed-Ler was gonna be so surprised when he saw everything!

7 o clock came and went.

'_He'll be here….he promised. Then I can…than we can sing and stuff and eat cake and…I hope he likes it. it was hard dying the marshmellow fluff that color but that's okay.'_ Oncie smiled tiredly at the empty chair across from him. He'd…put dinner away, just so that it would keep, but that wasn't a sign of giving up, no far from it. Once-Ler had then set out dessert and now he had nothing else to do but wait.

Well, that was okay. He'd wait as long as it took for his other self to show up.

His vision swam and he fought back a yawn. Against better judgment his eyes flicked to the clock above the refrigerator. _'9:45…'_

…

'_10...25…. already?'_

This time, the yawn couldn't be held back.

Today sucked.

Greed-Ler decided this somewhere around 1:30 and 3:20, or maybe he'd just woken up with this attitude, who knew? Who cared anymore, honestly? It was late and he was aching and cranky and he wanted to collapse or…or maybe.

Yes.

He'd fully intended to just spend the rest of the night (it was 11:40, his emerald plated watch told him.) in the master bedroom with his younger self….that is, if he could find him.

Little fucker wasn't in his bed so where…?

After looking in the bedroom, the study, and even the damn library, all the spot the little guy frequented, Greed-Ler kicked open the kitchen door just because he could, stalking into the room to see if Oncie was hiding in here, had the nerve to be somewhere other than where Greed-Ler knew where he was safe.

And the man stopped dead in his tracks.

Oncie was there alright, but slumped over the table dead asleep and snoring to prove it. In front of him was a piece of what looked like chocolate cake with the most obnoxious color of green frosting with what looked like the remains of a tiny candle in it. Across the rich oak table was another piece of cake, that piece in similar state with it's globby, melted candle. Forks lay beside the plates, abandoned, Oncie's in his slack grip. Greed-Ler could see all this as he stepped slowly into the room.

He took one look at the monstrous four layer cake with the missing sections on the counter, read the loopy words in black frosting that reeked of his baby's handwriting and grimaced.

Shit. Shitshitshit.

The date and the meaning of what Today was hit him smack in the face like a wet Humming Fish.

He'd…he'd gone and forgotten his—their—birthday.

'_But you're a busy man, it's not your fault, you didn't do anything wrong_—' Greed-Ler cut off that thought right there. No, he had. He'd fucked up this time, he'd really done a job on this.

And now that the millionaire looked back on it…oh for God's sake. Oncie'd been trying all day hadn't he? Geed-Ler, hadn't even done it on purpose, hadn't even noticed, until now.

'_It's his birthday too…and he spends all his time trying to celebrate it with me, instead of getting all the attention he deserves.' _

The kid could ask for anything, and Greed-Ler'd get it for him at the drop of his own hat. But when all his younger self wanted was his attention? His…love?

Shit. He couldn't even do that for himself, could he?

Greed-Ler stopped next to his younger self's hunched over form, looking down at him and biting his lip, face almost as a frown. He checked his watch. 11:51.

Then.

Around pointed teeth, a grin started crawling up his face. He still had time to fix this.

He gently extracted the fork from his younger self's fingers and almost chuckled at the way Oncie slept through just about anything. In fact he didn't really wake up until Greed-Ler was halfway down the hall with him in his arms.

"…hn?" Came an intelligent mutter. Greed-Ler felt eyelashes flutter against his throat, the smaller body shifting in his grip sleepily. His smile grew as he strutted down the dark hall.

It wasn't until arms lazily came up around his neck and curled around them did he hear a mumble of "Sorry, m'sorry I…ruined…"

"What're ya sorry for sweetheart? Nothing to be sorry about, shush."

"But—"

"Ah, ah, no buts." Greed-Ler entered his—no, _their_—bedroom. He glanced at the bed with a sly look before turning so the kid in his arms could see the clock on the far corner.

"See the time? We still got 5 minutes of **our** birthday babe, and I can think of a few ways we can spend it…"

The smile that lit up his younger self face was so worth it, so without another word spoken between them Greed-Ler carried Oncie straight to the bed.

What they had left of today was going to be amazing, Greed-Ler was going to make sure of it.


	5. Found

_Found_

This was all _Once-Ler's_ fault, and there was nothing else that could be said on the matter.

So as Greed-Ler stalked down the long darkly lit hallways of the mansion in the back of the factory, he didn't think about his younger-self. He didn't think about the way the younger man's smile would light up the damn room, how he'd perch on his lap and balance there as the Greed-Ler would work, didn't seem to mind sitting up there for hours on end with one arm curled around his waist. How the man's cooking was seriously one of his favorite things _ever_ about him, alongside the more naïve one's eagerness to be of help and to make sure he got proper sleep and rest. How when they walked Oncie was always one step away from him, trailing after like a duckling as they went on factory floor rounds. He was always within arm's reach when they were together, always.

His gorgeous eyes.

His soft lips.

His laughter.

But after last night…

'_Last night, everything was ruined.'_ Greed-Ler stepped past the sign of how many thneed's he sold. For once he didn't look up at it.

It didn't matter.

His stomach growled, his head throbbed, and he was pretty sure his tie wasn't perfectly straight like it always was, but honestly? He didn't give a shit.

'_Last night, I got a taste of my own medicine, and instead of saying what I really meant, I had to go and say…'_

"**Yeah, maybe! Fucking go for it, the doors right over there!"**

'_The exact opposite of what I'd meant.' _

Greed-Ler rounded a corner, head down and only looked up to see where he was exactly and then froze.

Because there stood Oncie—no,_Once-Ler._

And he even had the nerve stand there nonchalantly, his back to him as he talked cheerfully to one of his secretaries, like he'd not been gone for hours at all, like up and leaving his other half without a morning kiss was normal as fuck and really, why was Greed-Ler still thinking about this when here he was and all he had to do was get his attention—

"The fuck are you doing!" Okay, that worked too.

Oncie stopped mid sentence and turned around slowly at the shout, face falling into confusion. His older self was up already? He swallowed and subconsciously tucked the small box in his pocket deeper down. He'd give him it to him when he was sure he wasn't in, in trouble.

Greed-Ler strode forward, moving so fast the chain at his waist dangled and his tail coats lifted elegantly behind him. The next thing Once-Ler knew, this graceful, dangerous creature had him by the wrist and kept going, dragging him right down the rest of the hallway and into the elevator. Once in there, he slammed the door shut and hit the 12th floor.

As soon as it started moving, Greed-Ler smacked the emergency switch and the elevator came to screeching halt, dead still in-between the floors.

Once-Ler gulped and waited, the silence stretching between them for a while. He stared at the back of his Greed-Ler's back, the entire form stiff and side heaving just a little faster than normal. His raked his eyes down those long pinstriped pants, watching the fabric shake shake just a little, to the noise his black shoes made when they scuffled on the floor as Greed-Ler turned slowly around.

Oncie looked back up.

"The fuck were you thinking, get the fuck over here right now," Greed-Ler breathed out, without warning dragging Oncie into his chest, coiling his long arms around that waist—and yeah okay Once-Ler was confused.

"W-well I—huh?" Once-Ler stuttered, staring up into the older man's eyes, behind the lenses of his shades they were wide with desperation and fear and something else, something Once-Ler couldn't quite place, because he'd never seen it swirling there so intensely before in Greed-Ler's eyes.

"Don't you ever do that again, is that clear? Don't ever fucking leave just like that, just up and leave, no, you're not allowed to do that, okay?" Sad. Once-Ler realized dimly. He looks…so sad.

"…you missed me." He found himself murmuring, voice faint against Greed-Ler's continuous strings of protests and commands that didn't even SOUND like commands, they were to desperate and distressing to hold any water.

"Not after last night, alright? God," Greed-Ler seemed to gather his wits when he heard his younger self speak, "I…_Yes_."

"…" and really, it was only fair, for Oncie to straighten up and lightly kiss his older-self on corner of his mouth, even though it was open, even though there were those sharp teeth to worry about. Once-Ler didn't worry about them, didn't fear them.

"I'm sorry, for the things I said last night—" he started saying after he'd pull away a fraction of an inch.

"Don't, no, just shut up." Greed-Ler mumbled. "Don't apologize for that. I…" he swallowed, blinking a couple times, Once-Ler wondered if he was just seeing things past those lenses or if they were actual tears.

"'M'sorry." Came the smallest noise from his Greed-Ler he'd ever heard before.

'…_oh.'_ Oncie smiled sadly up at him. "Hey, it's okay, it's just how you are—" Again, he was cut off, this time by Greed-Ler's arms tightening and shaking his head so hard his hat nearly toppled off.

"That's the thing. It's not. With other people, yeah it is, because they don't matter, no one matters like this except you, what I'm trying to say is I really…s-so I'm sorry I was such a bastard, and everything and I swear to god I'll fucking try and stop and—" A finger came up against his mouth, silencing him. Once-Ler was still smiling even as he shushed his other half.

He got it.

"I love you too."

His older self froze, hands gripping his body as he looked down at Oncie, eyes searching for any sign of play—Once-Ler made sure there wasn't any in his gaze, and after a second Greed-Ler sagged against him gratefully, leaning against Once-Ler and burying his nose in the man's hair, because he wasn't wearing his hat. Once-Ler brought his hands up and rubbed them for a second against his Greed-Ler's back, holding him back just as tightly.

"…you haven't had eaten today have you," Oncie scolded lightly after a minute.

"Shut up and let me kiss you."

Laughter rang in the elevator.


	6. Box

_Box_

Oncie knew Greed-Ler's schedule down to the minute.

His meeting got out at 9.

It took about about 12 minutes to talk to the Board just to be cordial and 'keep up appearances.'

3 minutes to pick up his coffee from the secretary that attended with him.

It took 1 minute to yell at her for not putting in 3 creams and 4 sugars.

6 from second floor to the eleventh, because he liked to walk up the final set of stairs, and to this day not even Oncie ever fathomed why—maybe he liked the exercise?

So for the past half an hour, Oncie was sitting on the bed, tiny box cupped in his hands as he went over the script in his head. Give Greed-Ler the box, dive under the bed, perhaps the closet, no, that'd be cornering himself, that wouldn't do. Maybe he should stand by the door…? Or, worst-case-scenario, the window.

The digital clock by the bed clicked 9:22 just as the door swung open and Greed-Ler strutted in; tie already hanging off his neck and hat tucked under one arm. "Mhn, hey babe," he mumbled around the cup at his lips. "Ya' been sitting on the bed all day or what-hey what's with the deer in the headlights eyes? What?" He set down his cup just as he moved to unbutton his coat and fully tug off his tie completely.

"I—I—Uhm, s'good day, I…" he gaped like a fish for only a moment more before flinging his body off the bed and thrusting out his hand, the little black box sitting in his palm. "For you!"

Greed-Ler's eyes slid slowly down to it, then back up to his doppelganger. "...?"

"J-just take it, please?"

It was the _pleading_ look that did it. Though Oncie would never know, Greed-Ler had a hard time denying the kid anything when he pulled a face like that.

"Oh…kay." He took the small cube. Oncie wondered if Greed-Ler would recognize that it was real velvet, probably, maybe not, though. God, would he think it cheap? Stupid?

Greed-Ler held the box in his gloved hands for a moment. He flicked his eyes to Oncie. "….Oh, I have to open it?" God those teeth when he grinned like that, all teasing as Hell and side-smile.

"Y-yes." It came out a whimper, and that finally seemed to do it for his other half.

"…Alright, alright, okay, don't look at me like that for Chrisssake's, I—oh." Greed-Ler stared into the little box.

Silence.

And then Oncie couldn't take it anymore. "Oh please, okay, look if you're going to punish me just please get it over with and do it now, please, I can't take it, I've been waiting all day—mnph!" Lips with sharp teeth behind them smashed against his and pressed forcefully, not to hurt, but to be loud and make a damn statement. It was so Greed-Ler and so familiar to the younger that Oncie couldn't help but automatically kiss back, eyes fluttering closed. With his influence the kiss turned sweeter but just as firm and enthusiastic, and Oncie swore he could feel Greed-Ler smile against his lips.

Greed-Ler pulled back with an audible pop and grinned—not sneered—actually grinned down at him. "Thanks, babe. It's pretty as fuck, look it you, getting me shit and stuff." He 'tsked' happily and pulled the bright ring out of it's box, tossing the velvet box carelessly over his shoulder in the direction of the trash can.

"R-really? You like it?" Oncie was already picking up the fact he was still alive for such a sappy action. "I was thinking it matched your eyes—" He started excitedly.

"Sure as fuck does—"

"And you could wear it over your gloves and then it would blend and…" He trailed off when he saw Greed-Ler looking at him with that 'fuck no' expression. The same one he got when Oncie made the mistake of suggesting they install a Hummingfish tank in the lobby. Oncie's face fell. "…No? You don't want to wear it on your…?" His heart dropped to his feet. Oh, god, he was so happy Greed-Ler liked it... but of course the guy wouldn't want to _wear_ it, of course not, no, Oncie was all wrong, he'd screwed up, spent all the money he'd saved for a trinket that would get tossed in the desk drawer-

"Gonna wear this shit _under_ my gloves, of course, so I can feel it right there, sounds sappy as fuck but you know what? It'll be our little secret, just me and you sweetheart." Greed-Ler commented lightly as he stripped off his left glove and put on his _left_ ring finger _ohwait_—

"I…."

Oncie's visions blurred as he lunged forward and caught his older counterpart of guard, wrapping him in a tight hug, burying against Greed-Ler's soft coat, ignoring the sudden squawk of slight exasperation.

"_T-thank you…"_

"…you're welcome." Arms came slowly up to hug him back, along with a tentative, "For…what exactly?"

"Being _you_."


	7. Eddy

Eddy

_Made with help of heyimkat she's a glorious human being_

Greed-Ler found it one day while he was out inspecting one of the Axes Harvesters. It peered out from a dying shrub. It waddled over to him. He hissed and growled, startled, not liking to be snuck up upon.

It stopped. Plopped down. Stared. It did a lot of that, looking very expectant for such a small thing.

"Go on, you little tick, go away…! Scat!"

It sat there, staring up with big eyes. That did not blink. Some might call them cute, what with its huge eyes and big floppy ears. It was just a baby from the looks of its size.

It was unnerving the CEO, was what it was doing.

"This isn't a safe place for you! Get out of here! Scram!" He snapped, stepping back as it scooted forward and held out it's…tiny, little pudgy paws.

"Jesus fucking…no! Go back to your parents! Seriously!" his voice rose, but only to appear threatening. He didn't raise a hand or move to kick the little guy—he wasn't _that_ much of a monster.

The little thing looked around pointedly. This way and that. It blinked, then looked back at him, held out its stubby arms _again_.

Among the darkening skies and the slightly thick but not yet unlivable air…a horrible feeling sprouted in the pit of Greed-Ler's stomach as he realized what the tiny animal was trying to say through pantomime.

'Fuck,' is what he thinks.

"…..fuck." is what he says.

_**OOO**_

The first thing he did when he got back to his grand office was open his jacket, stalk up to Oncie, and drop…

A baby barbaloot into the man's lap.

"Here. I bought you this." He lied, sounding nonchalant about the whole thing.

Oncie blinked and jumped and forsaked his knitting because _ohhh_ how cute! Then it hits him and his he looks puzzled. He looked up at his older half with askance and confusion, not even needing words to get his question across to the Greed-Ler.

Who just 'huffed' and glanced away as he strutted back to plop down at his desk and begin the day's paperwork, trying not to care very much about this whole thing. Oncie blinks again, startled.

"What? …why!"

"Because they're fluffy." Seemed a good enough answer as any. Greed-Ler goes for gruff, and it works. His lie works too—Oncie looks _horrified_.

"Y-you can't **buy** these guys, are you sure he's even happy here?" Greed-Ler sees out of the corner of his eye Oncie's arms coil protectively around the little barbaloot, who gives a happy shake and begins gumming lovingly on Oncie's arm with little itty baby teeth with a smile.

"Yeahhh, he's fine, he doesn't mind, he's just a baby..." Who he'd found with no parents.

An orphan.

"...okay, fine." Oncie muttered as he petted the tiny guy's nose with one long finger, "Hope ya don't miss your parents little guy, huh? …You need a name." The man realized out loud with a growing smile.

"Howwww about Carlos? No? Uhm, Mason? Okay, okay! Ow…jeez, good thing those are baby teeth, hey other me what should we call him?" He asked, stepping up to stand at Greed-Ler's side by his desk, the tiny thing squirming about in Oncie's grasp and making appropriate no's to the man's name choices.

"…Shithead? Oncie,_ I don't care_ what you name him, it's a damn barbaloot!" Greed-Ler growled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"We're not calling him that!" Oncie almost sounds scolding, with that little huff in his voice as he sets down the baby barbaloot, right smack in front of his other half on his desk.

"…Eddy?" Oncie tried again, sounding hesitant.

'Eddy' makes grabby paws for…Greed-Ler of all things.

"Get it away from me, it's gonna rip out my damn jugular or something." Greed-Ler grumbles, leaning back and trying to look disgusted.

"C'mon, he's harmless and you know it~" Oncie sing-songs lightly, smiling down at the little guy as he scoops him back up. "Since you haven't said no, it's gonna be Eddy! Yeah, how's that? Eddy?"

The newly christened Eddy gives up in his attempt for the green thing and instead just cuddled close to those long arms holding him. Oncie chuckles and leans down, giving Greed-Ler a kiss on the cheek.

"Yeah, whatever…he's yours now anyway." Greed-Ler muttered as he reached up to awkwardly scratch one of Eddy's huge ears.

"Ohhh I don't know about that…" He held Eddy up next to Greed-Ler's face so the tiny barbaloot could smooch against Greed-Ler's cheek like he'd seen Oncie do. He pulled it off rather well, even if Greed-Ler wrinkled his nose and wiped his cheek afterward—Eddy took no notice.

"Yours, mine, and ours." Oncie grinned.

"Yeah, yeah. fine. Ours, okay. Just don't let him—ohgod he's eating my papers…yep, he is."

"W-wah, Eddy! No, no that's bad for you— and bad for Greed-ler." He dutifully extracted the tiny guy, before turning on his heel and stepping toward the door that lead to the main kitchen, Eddy safe in his grasp.

And the last thing Greed-Ler heard as the door shut behind the two was, "Leeet's go make daddy lunch, okay?"

..."Daddy?" It's only when Oncie leaves that Greed-Ler allows himself to smile.

Daddy.

Sure, okay.


	8. Sick

Sick

Greed-Ler never really smiles much. Not while he is working, not while he is sleeping, not even while he is eating something particularly delicious. And before you ask, because I know at least 3 of you are thinking it, not even during sex. Sure, he had different expressions with which to express his joy, or his fondness or when he was proud or pleased, but he never really broke into delighted beams or bashful grins like his younger (and arguably more happier) other half did. People say it is because he works too hard. His mother says it is because he doesn't make enough money and has to earn more for the family. Oncie thinks it is something to do with the weather.

Greed-Ler personally thinks it's the teeth.

So when it's two am in the damn morning and he's still up doing paperwork, crammed onto his desk trying to find a smooth surface to write on and his ink is drying on the quill and his coffee's getting cold. When body is cashing checks on him and all he wants to do is trudge into the small hallway to his left and into his bedroom, collapse on his master bed and go the fuck to sleep with hopefully a nice warm slightly snoring body next to him to wrap his arms around, the last thing he has on his mind is smiling of all things, or even looking very pleasant at all. There was no joy here, not at this hour, there was nothing warm and fuzzy and—

The door to his left opened, creaking slightly on its hinges, because in the dead of night that's when all hinges like to creak sharply to see if they can scare whoever might be trying to sneak through them.

Greed-Ler's hand jerks on reaction—ink smears the dotted line he was trying to sign.

He snarls at the mess for a second, and then decides to direct his anger at the source of the problem.

"_What._ The fuck _is_ it Oncie._"_ 'And for your sake it'd better be good.' He thinks as he spins around in his chair when he doesn't get an answer right away.

Any murderous thoughts about the many ways he can torture and where to store the body of his simpler other half stop dead in its tracks when he sees what's standing in the door way, though.

More like hanging onto it really, like he was being held up by sheer will power alone. Greed-ler blinks and raises an eyebrow.

"….Oncie?"

"…" the young inventor hasn't taken his eyes off the floor—or moved from the doorway yet.

If Oncie was willing to interrupt his work when he knew he wasn't supposed too, and risk the Greed-Ler's wrath then…well then it must be important, right?

"Get over here." The CEO finally snaps, but not unkindly. Under his words is the added tone of 'and fucking hurry because you're scaring me and I don't _like_ that.'

Oncie steps further into the room—staggers actually—and it's now the green-clad man can see the current state of his other half.

And he doesn't like it _at all._

For one thing his legs are shaking; even under his pajamas Greed can see the shivering mess the boy is, the way his clothes stick to his body. And then the slight sheen of the skin that's visible, the red dusting across his cheek and the fuzzy slightly glazed look in his eyes and ohfuckit.

"The hell's the matter with you, come **here**—" he tries to keep the worry out of his tone even as he reaches long arms out for Oncie to stumble right into them with a tiny gasp of—relief maybe? Before Greed-Ler can say or do anything else; there's his younger half crawling shamelessly into his lap and winding him arms around his neck, shoulders, anywhere he could reach. Clinging, he's clinging, Greed-Ler realizes.

He's also breathing slightly hard, wheezing a bit, shaking like a damn leaf and basically looking all around pathetic.

"I, I just, sorry, I'm sorry but…but I think I'm a little bit…sick." Oncie finishes lamely, staring at the carpet and biting his lip. The shivers have not let up once and they're even moving Greed-Ler a bit with their power.

And so Greed-Ler's frown becomes slightly more worried than ferocious.

"No shit Sherlock." The blush was admittedly a little bit cute in any other circumstance, now it was just a marker of how feverish Oncie was getting. It was…unsettling, in this context.

Greed-Ler doesn't like it.

He glances at his desk, takes a few precious seconds to shove some papers here and place a pen there, before he fixes his arms back around the small of Oncie's back and hooks a hand under his legs and lifts him straight up, carrying him back the way he'd came.

Oncie, for his part, only squeaks lightly and tightens his hold on his other half, Greed feels his warm, flushed face bury into the crook of his neck and hears a pathetic sniffle of all things.

"How long did it take ya to come down with this?" He finds himself asking, voice gruffer than he'd intended.

"…dunno. A little, a little before you left for your meeting," Talking sounds like it's hard and tiring—and Greed-Ler's pretty sure you need a heart to have heart strings but dammit something in his chest is twanging painfully over his Oncie being in pain.

"…and a-after you left I took a nap and, and just woke up…w-wanted you…" He wanted him. Fuck howcould a part of him be this adorable. It was criminal.

And Greed-Ler would be lying if he said his worry hadn't increased at those words. "My meeting was at one in the afternoon…" He reminds lightly, hoping for an error in time.

"Y-yeah, I know." Nope. The poor kid literally has been this sick for that long. Greed spots Eddy sitting on his side of the bed, and he almost has to say something but, no, Eddy sees them come in and perks up.

"Oh, dammit Oncie…jesus ya should've said something earlier—or at least rang the damn bell for the maid to bring ya some of that grape medicine stuff I know we got lying around." He mutters in a light scold as he kicks the door open further so he can fit the both of them through into the master bedroom.

"Dun'like that stuff," Oncie informs him blearily as Greed lays him back down on the bed, grabbing the covers Oncie had pushed off when he'd gotten up to come looking for him, most likely. Eddy was snuffling right into Oncie's neck and curling up there, settling down because baby anythings, let alone barbaloots, need lots of sleep.

"No?" Greed-Ler just chuckles at that as he tucks Oncie in—sounds like the fever was sitting in his head. He spares the tiny barbaloot a scratch on the crown of his fluffy head before he moves to undress for the night.

"Bo… tastes like, like…it tastes bad." Stuffed nose too. Ohh he was gonna be fun tonight.

"Mhh-hm."

"Not like you."

That makes him pause for a second, fingers held over his tie. He smiles very softly and when he looks at the groggy young man curled up under the covers, it's the fondest look possible from him.

"Is that right."

"Yeah." Oncie's arms appear from over the duvet and stretch out as he rolls onto his side. He's all but making grabby hands for the Greed-Ler and the Greed-Ler can barely take it. "You're the best." Oncie mumbles quietly, eyes half mast. Greed-Ler can see him fading.

"I know that babe" Then he sees that puppy dog pleading look and he sighs. "….okay, okay, I'm coming, hang on a second." He sheds his work clothes and leaves on his boxers—skin to skin would warm Oncie up faster for when his fever spiked tonight, God willing it did leave tonight. The older one gets into bed just a little bit hastily had anyone been noticing, but then it's nothing because Oncie's arms are reaching around to hug his waist tight and press right into him.

"Sorry," he whispers out quietly. Greed-Ler snorts but holds him back tighter nonetheless.

"That's a damn lie, no you're not."

He throws a leg over Oncie's just to pull him close and offer more warmth, Oncie drinks it all up and sniffs pathetically. Eddy is still conked out, completely oblivious and probably dreaming of eating Daddy's papers or Mommy's knitting.

"…I am a little." Oncie mumbles sleepily.

That earns him a small laugh as Greed-Ler rests his chin atop Oncie's black mop and relaxes.

"Yeah, whatever. You're a horrible liar, you always were…" and before Oncie can protest to that or defend his honor, Greed-Ler's raking his fingers through his hair of all things, watching the light from the lamp glint off the emerald ring on his finger. His smile (and perhaps his heart) grows one more size.

"Get some sleep Oncie…" He whispers before a kiss to the forehead. And the words tumble from Greed-Ler's lips before he can stop them: "I'll take care of you."

"…kay." Are Oncie's last truly conscious words. The fever and the sick and the comfort drags him right down, which is what Greed was hoping for.

And the CEO blinks a little in realization over his words, because it is true. It is.

Because, for better or for worse, he would take care of his, his other half, his younger-self, _whatever_ the fuck Oncie was. He'd do it.

Greed-Ler never really smiles, you know.

But the look on his face as he falls asleep curled around and sheltering his sick other half is nothing short of pure euphoria, because finally, finally he is doing something right and he knows it. And it feels so good.


End file.
